Patriotism
I remember as a little girl when John F. Kennedy was assassinated.
Everyone cried, everyone gathered around the TV set waiting for word.
We sang the “Star Spangled Banner,” “God Bless America,” and “Oh Danny Boy,”
(Because, as my Grandfather explained it, the Irish and Americans were united today.)
And my Uncle Ryan and my Grandfather William even wore their uniforms saluting the set.
My Grandfather Luigi said that that was the beauty of this country, a melting pot.
When I looked confused, he explained we were like Grandma Sophia’s Spaghetti dinner:
The sauce was our soldiers, fighting and spilling blood for our freedom,
The pasta were the families at home, providing a framework for the sauce.
The spices were the people of many countries who seek freedom here,
And my grandmother represented the wisdom of our forefathers in combining it all to make something good become great!
To this day I can’t see the flag without shedding a small tear for family I’ve lost, like those old soldiers saluting the TV;
And traditions we’ve lost, like singing patriotic songs together;
But most of all I can’t help but crave my grandma’s melting pot spaghetti!
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